Just call me Goldilocks.

38 days until the local Farmers Markets open for the season. That just seems SO far away.

Other than continuing to make my own yogurt, I have been so uninspired to cook. I think in general I live on the more minimalist side, but somehow I still manage to have ZERO cabinet space in my galley kitchen. I want to rip out the dishwasher so I can have more space. Plus, my counters are about an inch or two too high for me, which makes working at them a chore and ergonomically unfriendly. I have to wear heels and go into relevé just to look out the peephole. My bedroom closets are divided by those half-bars that are great for hanging up hundreds of shirts and pants that have to be folded in half on a hanger, but that also means that I have to hang all of my dresses and long skirts next to the coats and jackets in the small hall closet. So, you see, I'm convinced that my apartment was designed for a man, or at least anyone taller than 5'6" in her bare feet who doesn't have a fondness for dresses.

So if I continue to subsist on cold cereal, the occasional piece of fruit that actually has a taste, hummous, raw vegetables that looked marginally good at the store, and homemade yogurt for the next 38 days, you'll know why.